A Place To Come Home To
by Salivour
Summary: A Harry adopts Tom story. Told in snapshots throughout the years. M for a bit of swearing.
1. Chapter 1

Ayah = father

22nd June 1945

Tom first met him the summer just before his seventh year in Hogwarts. He had just started the last time he would ever have to spend in the hated orphanage. It was on the first morning that Mrs. Cole knocked on his door and told him that a young man had come to see him. Tom snorted and said he would see this man. Probably some idiot Slughorn had sent from the Ministry, determined to see him into a malleable job.

Mrs. Cole simply nodded and left. The mystery man stepped in. He was short, and wore black dress pants and a loose dark green shirt. A wizard? Definitely, yes. Tom could practically smell the magic on him. He had loose jet black hair and bright green eyes. He was rather nice looking and seemed to be about twenty five years old.

"Hello. My name is Harry. I wish to put something of a, uh, proposition to you."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "What sort of proposition?"

Harry lent against the door frame. "I understand that you only have a few months left here, but would you appreciate a different place to stay? You could always come back if you don't find it to your liking."

"You mean adoption."

"It would have to be in a muggle sense as I would take guardianship as to them you won't be of age until eighteen. But that really means nothing, and certainly nothing in the wizarding world."

Adoption? This was the first offer he had ever had. Tom hadn't expected it at all, especially not now. He was still questioning why this man would suddenly decide to adopt him. Bu the sensed that Harry wasn't tricking him.

Tom nodded. "Alright, then. I'll come and see."

Harry grinned. "You got all your things?"

As if he would spread his possessions throughout the orphanage like a common grub. He tapped the trunk beside his bed. Harry pointed his wand at the trunk which shrunk and became feather light. Tom pocketed it and stood up. The other man really was small, Tom was already a good head taller than him. Harry held out his hand and they apparated away together.

They appeared somewhere that Tom didn't recognise at all. It seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, a large ridge with a small stone cottage perched on top. Harry lead him up to the door and they stepped into a reasonably large room. The floor was wood and the walls the same stone as the outside. The room was sectioned into a basic kitchen, a dining room and a longue where a large grey sofa was. The place was not anything special, but it was certainly nice enough.

Harry was smiling. "Welcome. These are the main communal areas that we'd both be using." He pointed to a door on the far left, "that there are my rooms – bedroom, study, and I expect that you won't be spending a whole lot of time in them."

Tom nodded mutely.

"In the middle door is the library. You are free to take and use any book you wish as long as it returns and in good condition."

"What subjects do you have?"

"Oh, a bit of everything. I'm not biased when it comes to magic. Come, you can browse it later and complain. Let me show you your rooms."

Harry opened the door on the far right and Tom stepped in, followed by Harry. "The door can be keyed into a password for security. Just tap the centre of the handle with your wand so it registers you and say whatever you wish the password to be."

Huh. So this man would trust him right away to not have the door open at all times? He might just be bearable to live with.

They were in a tiny dark corridor with four doors. Harry tapped the nearest door on the right. "Bathroom. I've got my own so that's yours to use."

Harry opened the next door along which opened into a spacious, empty room. "This can be used as you wish. It's really got no particular use."

He closed the door and opened the opposite one. Inside, the walls were covered in shelves, along with a potions laboratory and work desk. "Study, potions area." Harry said with a vague wave of his hand.

"And finally." Harry pulled open the last door, "your bedroom."

The room was dark, with a comfortable four poster bed, small couch, side table and desk. It was completely plain, but the furniture seemed to be of a moderately expensive sort.

Harry shifted. "So, what do you think?"

"It's nice, thank you."

Harry nodded. "Shall I send the papers off, then?"

"Yes, as a temporary arrangement, of course." Tom hardly wanted to be tied down to some man he barely knew. But the temptation to take any opportunity to be rid of the orphanage was strong and it seemed a though he would be left along, which would benefit his summer plans.

"Alright then, I've leave you to it then." Harry disappeared, leaving Tom alone in his new bedroom.

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2nd July 1944

Tom sat in the library, reading an ancient book on torture techniques. He was well pleased with it. Harry hadn't been lying when he said that the library had everything. Even the darkest arts were covered. He had even found a source or two on horcruxes.

Harry and himself had mostly stayed out of each other's way, other than Harry insisting that Tom showed for a least one meal a day. He liked Harry – he didn't have a tendency to stick his nose where it wasn't wanted or try to get him to do things he didn't like. Though he wasn't entirely sure how far that would go in terms of his interest in dark arts. Sure, he had a house full of texts, but that didn't mean that Harry would be happy to find Tom practising them. The man was rather Gryffindor in some of his tendencies.

Tom felt a movement behind him and shifted to hide the name of book.

"Why don't you just take that to your room and read it there?"

"I was just flicking through it quickly." He smiled and went to return the book.

"You've been flicking through it for over a week now."

Tom blinked at that. He was normally much better at hiding things. "You don't mind?"

"No. I don't mind hat you take an interest in. I'll support you."

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16th August 1944

Tom was shaking. He had just murdered his muggle father and grandparents, the power was a rush. The ring on his finger was his second horcrux, further cementing his immortality. The tears hurt though, and his mind was buzzing, unable to remain still.

He was walking up to the house, having apparated to just beyond the wards. The light was on in the longue. Damn. He had hoped to avoid questions until later. Tom knew he didn't look good, and Harry would ask why.

He walked into the house and saw Harry on the couch reaching and eating soup, and made a bad attempt to sneak past. `

"Sit."

Harry never ordered. Tom must have looked worse than he thought. Surely Harry didn't suspect. He sat down beside Harry.

"You look a wreck. Honestly, you're an idiot, sometimes."

Tom frowned. "I'm just tired."

"No kidding."

"Can I go to bed, then?"

"No."

Great, just great. "Why not?"

"You're drinking these first." Harry produced two potions. He was prepared, then.

"What are they?"

"That one is just a calming draught. The other soothes the edges of soul tears."

"Soul…" Tom was screaming and swearing mentally. How, how, how did Harry know?

"I know you made a horcrux tonight."

Tom's hand was gripping his wand. If he had to murder Harry as well, he would. Nothing was more important than his life. Harry shifted closer to Tom, making him tense. However, Harry simply wrapped his arms around Tom's shoulders and gave him a brief but gentle hug.

"I said that I would support you. And I will always, no matter what."

Tom didn't know what to say to that. He had never been hugged before. But loyalty, without promises or bribing. Tom knew that Harry wasn't lying.

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16th June 1945

Tom had debated whether or not to return after the end of his final year at Hogwarts. He had finished with perfect scores in all of his NEWTs. Something he was quietly proud of. His professors as well, though not nearly so quietly. He had eventually decided to return, as it would be the best place he had to prepare. He planned to spend years travelling abroad to further his knowledge and cement his support base.

Harry answered the door with a hug, as small as ever, he looked the exact same as Tom had last seen him.

"I was wondering if you would return."

"I didn't think I would."

"No."

They stepped inside and settled onto opposite ends of the couch.

"How long do you plan to stay?"

"Only a month or so."

"You have somewhere to go?"

"I'll travel. I'm not entirely sure where yet, though Bolivia, Sudan and France are considerations."

"Ah, you will learn so much. Here," Harry held out a small velvet bag, "this is a Gringotts transfer bag. I created an account for it, under a pseudonym. Use the money as you wish."

"Thank you." Tom meant it as well.

"When you return, come visit, won't you?"

"I will."

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16th May 1955

"Tom!" The door was wrenched open and Harry engulfed him into a hug. He still hadn't changed in ten years. Tom had grown further and his features had become waxen, the effort of two more horcruxes, but a small price for being immortal.

He returned Harry's hug. The man had been the only one he had missed. Harry pulled back and studied him.

"I don't think you're still Tom, though."

"No. I fashioned myself a new name. Lord Voldemort."

"Voldemort." Harry rolled the name in his mouth as though testing it, "it suits you. Though 'lord' just makes you sound like an idiot, so I hope you can do a lot more than yabber on about how great you are."

Tom snorted. Harry never blinked an eye at anything.

"So, where did you end up going?"

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19th August 1955

Voldemort had just returned from Hogwarts. Having been effectively to politely go away by Dumbledore. He hated that man, more venomously than any other. He was pacing in the longue, ranting.

Harry was on the couch, reading. Suddenly, he snapped his book shut with a loud bang. "What the fuck did you expect to happen?" he shouted.

That paused Voldemort. Harry never shouted, or swore.

"He was never going to give someone he distrusts so much a position of power over students. He just used this as an opportunity to glean whatever information he could out of you."

"He didn't get anything." Tom snapped.

"No? He didn't see that your eyes are going red? That you've changed so much since you left school? That you are gathering a loyal base of followers?"

"None of that matters."

Harry sighed. "I don't want to see you hurt."

Tom deflated. Harry could always calm him with a few simple, honest points.

"I know."

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Thank you so much for reading!

As to how Harry is there – yes he does remember his life in the books, but I haven't got a method as to how he got to Tom's time. You can just imagine that :P

And yes, explaining things in an interesting manner really isn't my forte.


	2. Chapter 2

24th October 1956

"I've decided how to remain in contact with my Death Eaters."

Tom and Harry were sitting together on the couch at Harry's home, sharing a bowl of fruit.

"How?"

"A tattoo, of sorts. Each one would be linked to me, and would burn when I wanted that Death Eater."

"Does it have a limit?"

"As long as my will is strong enough, I don't think so. They won't be allowed to go gallivanting about anywhere, anyway."

"A test subject or two to test, then?"

Voldemort's answering smirk was enough to know that the test subjects wouldn't survive.

"Will you mark all of them?"

"No. Most of them are far too stupid to effectively hide it."  
"Why don't you put the tattoo somewhere more private then?"

Tom snorted at that. "Because I need to have access to then, you sick moron."

Harry grinned. "Just an inner circle, then. You're going to make them all think of how special they are."

"That's the one part I'm worried about."

"Leave that Persephone girl off then."

"Merlin, yes."

Voldemort paused and then added, "I really need to focus on attracting competent followers."

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27th December 1956

Voldemort had just finished marking the twelve chosen to be closest to him. After being banged into their heads that he would murder anyone who went against him. A ghostly apparition of the dark mark, as it was referred to, floated in the air beside him. The room was a dungeon in a castle-like manor he had acquired through varying contacts. He had no intention of letting anyone wander about, no matter how 'inner' they were. Except…

He felt something brush past the wards and immediately moved upstairs to kill the idiotic intruder. Two hours with idiots had not left him in the best of moods. He entered into a sitting room and took one look around.

"You can't warn me?"

"No."

Tom huffed as Harry jumped down from the dresser he was perched on to give Tom a hug.

"Why don't you ever change?"

"I changed my underwear this morning, I'll have you know."

Tom shook his head. "That's not…no, why don't you age? I've known you for years and you still don't look a day older."

"Good facial routine."

"Right."

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21st February 1957

Voldemort had made a decision that the empty room in his side of Harry's house was a fine place to stage a meeting with a few of his inner circle.

"My lord, who is the brat?" Bellatrix Lestrange questioned, as Harry slipped into the room and scowl set onto his face. Voledmort was quite tempted to crucio her. She was useful and extremely loyal, but really could not learn when to keep her mouth shut and that she wasn't _quite_ that important.

"Do not speak to your superiors like that."

"But, they boy…

"Yes, the 'boy'" Voldemort snapped. Harry was lurking in the back of the room, arms crossed. It occurred to Voldemort that Harry may not be quite so pleased about this.

Lucius Malfoy stepped in to attempt to remedy the situation. "My lord, we merely wish to know why-"

"-shut the fuck up. Bellatrix can speak for herself." Harry finally spoke and his voice was laced with controlled anger. Voldemort just hoped that no one continued to push him. He had never seen Harry truly anger before and got the feeling that Harry was rather stronger than initial impressions gave.

"Giving orders, freak?"

That snapped Harry. He twisted his body around as though he were about to throw something, and a whirling ball of crackling energy appeared in his palm and was thrown into Bellatrix's chest, knocking her off her feet.

Voldemort folded his arms and placed a smile on his face. He did not particularly feel like angering Harry further and so would attempt to charm him.

"Come now, Harry, am I unable to share this lovely home with my friends?"

Mistake. Harry snarled at that, magic pooling off of him, barely under control.

"All of you, leave." The gathered Death Eaters hastened to obey.

"Harry, calm down."

"Shut the fucking hell up," Harry shouted.

"You said I was welcome here."

"Well, you aren't anymore. Leave." 

Voldemort grabbed Harry's shoulder and forced him to look at him. Their eyes met, and Voldemort felt himself being blasted across the room, where he fell heavily against the stone wall.

"I expect you to be gone by the morning. "

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22nd February 1957

The next morning and Tom still hadn't left. He refused to until he discovered what was so wrong with Harry. Harry was the only person of any importance to him, and he wasn't about to let that person just walk out of his life.

"Tom." Harry had finally appeared for breakfast.

"Harry."

Harry seemed calmer this morning and made himself a coffee before seating himself at the dining table. He rested his forehead on his hands and sighed. Tom started to speak.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, I should have-"

"-no," Harry cut him off, "I should have been clear on some things from the start."

He took a shuddering breath. "You may have wondered how I've been so blasé about your horcruxes, how far you've gone into dark arts, everything."

Tom nodded. It had passed his mind more than once as to how Harry could seemingly know so much.

"I don't know how to tell you," Harry took a long sip of his coffee. Tom moved over to sit on a chair next to Harry, unsure of what to say.

"Who do your regard me as?"

"A mentor, a friend, ayah." The last word was whispered so quietly.

"You didn't once. You regarded me as your greatest enemy. Someone to hate, a life to tear apart, to feel only disgust , condemnation towards."

"I can't think…" Albus Dumbledore was the first person to jump to mind at that description, but that was plain absurd.

"You haven't met me yet. I was born in 1980. I travelled in time to here in 1997."

"How?"

"Avada Kedavra."  
"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's the killing curse, Tom."

"I know that!"

"Perhaps I ought to start at the beginning. Several years from now, you will hear a prophecy that speaks of one with the power to vanquish you."

Tom scowled, "and I destroyed, them of course."

"You tried to. Several years later we met in the Forbidden Forest and you tried to kill me with the killing curse. I was torn off and ended up in this time."

"You are leaving far too much out of that short explanation. But, I trust that you are only doing so as to not upset the timeline?"

"Yes, I'll support you, always, though."

"I know, Harry."

"Just give me time to sort through a few things."

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	3. Chapter 3

29 March 1957

"Did you mean that you were hit by a killing curse twice?"

"Yes, Tom. Are you going to keep guessing?"

"Of course. I need to be prepared for any eventualities."

"I doubt that anyone could ever do that."

"Is it that complicated?"

"It's not a matter of taking notes rather than keeping it all in your head."

"Why did I hate you so much?"

"You are asking for clues now."

Tom's only response was to glare at Harry from across the sofa, which only seemed to amuse the other. "Come on, Harry. You would not have told me as much if you did not want me to know."

"You know me too well," Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "you didn't hate me as much, well; you did very much but, not this me. You forgot who I was and lost your soul – or the vast majority of it, at least."

Tom frowned and crossed his arms. "I have been keeping a close eye on that. Contrary to popular belief, I have been giving the horcrux containers a small portion of soul and not leave myself with no soul."

Tom had well known the risks of storing large chunks of soul in foreign containers and not communicating with them for several years. Each tear had been carefully dictated along a certain line to only shave off a tiny portion of soul. All that would ever been needed to ensure his immortality.

"I know, I know, you don't need to explain it all to me."

"So…how was it that I lost my soul?"

"I'm not sure of the details. Whether you were getting too confident in the tears or a general instability, when you tired to kill me the first time, the curse rebounded and hit you. Your soul shattered."

Tom rubbed his thumbs against his temples. "You need to remember that this is all new to me. The curse rebounded?"

"Yep," Harry grimaced, "First person to survive the killing curse. I was right famous for it. Dumbledore thought it was love."

"What do you think?"

"Fuck knows. There was certainly evidence of a blood protection, but I've never bothered looking further, really. You know what Dumbledore's theories are like."

Tom nodded. "No idea?" Knowing full well that Harry had probably done a bit more than bothered.

"Shut up."

30th April 1958

Tom was sitting at the dining room table, riffling through reports – he really had some work to do with competence. The attacks were not targeted enough, and far too many of the Death Eaters were turning to sport rather than organised politics and attacks that sent a clear message. The door swung open, revealing a messy Harry standing on the door step. Harry wandered in and casually plopped himself onto the sofa. Tom followed him with his best glare.

"Where the fuck have you been!"

"Norway."

"Doing what?"

"Fishin'"

"You were bloody fishing for a year?"

"Fishin', yep."

Tom swore and aimed a violent kick at the sofa, cursing loudly in parseltongue. Harry sat bolt upright.

"I did not really think you would care."

"Why wouldn't I? You've been missing for a year. I didn't know where you where. What if something happened? I needed to be able to at least contact you. Tell me where you are going and when you'll be back. Even if you can't trust me enough to tell me what you are doing."

Tom's tone and expression were angry, but his eyes betrayed how upset he was. Harry stood up and wrapped his arms around Tom's middle, his head resting against his chest. Tom hugged him back tightly.

"I'm sorry. You are a dark lord, I thought you would appreciate me pulling away. I can't always let you know though."

Tom just squeezed him tighter. "I don't want you to go anywhere. Why can't you let me know?"

"Just cos. Maybe some day."

Tom didn't relax his grip and snorted in disbelief. "Would you let me mark you?"

"No. And do not ask why. You know as well as I do that it would not work for our relationship."

"No. Let me come up with something."

"With what purpose?"

"To let me know where you are and your health."

"You are very sweet sometimes," said Harry leaning up to kiss Tom on the temple.

"My Death Eaters would refer to it as soft."

"I don't think that they would ever call their insane lord that." 


	4. Chapter 4

17th May 1958

Pollock, Voldemort though the man's name was, had finally done the seemingly impossible and snapped Harry's temper. Voldemort hardly didn't recognise half the exotic curses that flew from Harry's wand. But, the man was screaming for mercy on the cold stone floor. His skull smashed in sideways giving his face and oddly contorted look. Harry aimed one last spell to severe the man's brain stem leaving him a twitching mess. Everything was silent expect for Harry's heavy breathing.

Voldemort watched Harry warily, unsure of whether to comfort him or continue as if nothing had happened. Harry made the decision for him. "Out! All of you, out. Now!"

Voldemort had never seen his Death Eaters move so quickly, especially for an order that had not been his own.

Harry closed his eyes, fists hanging by his sides and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. When he opened his eyes and turned back to look at Voldemort, he looked rather sheepish.

"Sorry about that. He wasn't important, was he?"

"No. Don't worry about that."

"I think I need to go away again."

"Can't you at least wait until I've got something to keep an eye on your with? I was thinking of a cuff you could wear."

"How long would it take? And nothing flashy."

"No, plain black leather. Maybe a few designs etched in. Runes if they work."

Harry sighed in exasperation. "How long, Tom."

"A few months."

"I think I would have gone nuts by then. No, I need to get away."

"Where to?"

"You and your questions! Honestly. I'll be back by the end of August, alright?"

"Fine. I'll be keeping an eye on you next time you wander off, though."

"Don't make me sound like a disobedient five year old."

"Be safe."

"I will. You'll try and track me anyway."

Tom just nodded and started plotting.

26th August 1958

"I tried everything, anything I could think of. How is it that you just walked off the face of the Earth?"

Harry had just come home again, looking the same as ever.

"Are you going to some sort of fountain of youth?"

"I'm fantastic, thank you for asking. Had a fabulous time in Bolivia. I won't be able to look at a guniea pig the same way though."

Tom maturely stuck his tongue out in response to being ignored. "How, though. Nothing makes sense."

"It is interconnected. Me leaving and looking like, well, not aging."

"Are you safe?"

"Yes, Tom." Harry walked over to where Tom was standing in his doorway and hugged him, "It's good to see you again."

"I finished your cuff. Let go and I'll get it."

Harry squeezed him slightly before wandering off to make himself and sandwich. A minute later Tom had reappeared, holding what looked to be a plain leather band and clasp. It was fairly narrow, no more than three centimetres wide, a snake weaving through the centre, it's tail emerging from a skull. Rune marched along the upper and lower edges. Tom fastened it around Harry's left wrist. Harry ran his fingers along it, admiring the design. "Thank you."

"It is attached to an atlas in my room, that will inform me of your locaton."

Harry nodded silently and hugged Tom again.

"I'll be here for a while now."

"At least you are feeling better."

"Yes, yes. I am."

15th October 1959

Belgium

17th September 1961

Greece

21st July 1962

Iceland

3rd September 1964

Denmark

5th June 1964

Burma

16th April 1966

Thailand

7th December 1969

Dominica

30th November 1970

Voldemort had tracked Harry each time he had left to travel somewhere. And each time Harry had come home at last, he spoke of some exotic place he had visited. But, in all that time, the marker on his atlas had never shifted from England. Voldemort had even made a duplicate to test on a Death Easter, send the idiot off to some country and the device had worked perfectly. Tom had tested and double-checked Harry's cuff again and again and each time the tests said the cuff was working normally. The only explanation that Voldemort had come to was that Harry was leaving the cuff behind and giving it to some person to keep it moving naturally. But, he had then tracked the cuff down to its precise location in a moor in Northern Scotland and had not been able to find the damn thing will all of his magical knowledge.

Voldemort paced back and forth in the room he still kept at Harry's home. It had become a mess, filled with notes, experiments and general disorder. Today was the day that Harry had promised to be home after a five month trip to who-knows-where. The date he would be home, was the one thing that Harry had been honest about. Voldemort planned to confront him when he came home and demand answers.

He was clearly being lied to, by the one person he had placed any trust in. And more damning than anything was the places that Harry showed up at on his atlas. Hogwarts, where his precious horcruxes were kept, the Ministry and disappearing all together in London. Harry must either be working for the Ministry or Dumbledore to constantly be at those places. How much information had he divulged?

Voldemort heard the front door open and Harry walked in, yelling his name. Voldemort reign in his temper and magic somewhat and stalked out.

"There you are, Tom!" Harry was obviously elated as he spun around the lounge. "Mongolia was gorgeous! Saw the Great Wall and a bit of China as well. But I mainly spent the time travelling from place to. Stopped off at Singapore for a week even on the way back."

Voldemort stood in the doorway, arms folded and a horrible sneer on his face. Glaring at Harry, he marched past, ignoring him completely.

"I'm going to a meeting. I do NOT want to see you again when I get back."

Voldemort wrenched the door opened and apparated in a furious whirl of magic. Harry was left standing in the middle of the room, mouth open in shock, wondering what he could have possibly done.

30th November 1970

"What the fuck was that about?"

Harry had of course not left and was standing across the room from a murderously glaring Voldemort who had just returned well past midnight, blood smeared across his face and robes.

"I thought I told you to leave."

"This is my house."

Harry found himself with Voldemort's wand pointed at him. "I do not ever want to see you gain. I do not want to hear another sound pass your lips. You have been good to me for many years, so you may leave with your life in exchange for complete silence."

"I'm not going, Tom. We'll talk this out." Harry moved towards the couch, confused as to what had brought this on, but fully expecting Tom to do the same.

"Crucio."

Unbearable pain sprung up in every nerve of Harry's body. Each one awake with a sharp fire, every fibre of his being in pure pain. Made all the worse in the knowledge that this was his Tom. He could barely hear Voldemort's rant above him and he withered on the ground.

"I trusted you for years. More than anyone else. Now I find that you lie, cheat. I cannot turst you and never should have. All of the poison that sullies your mouth. I have doubts that a single fucking word you spoke was true, and even if so, true with the worst intent."

He lifted the curse and Harry was left on the floor, crying and panting with the remaining pain. Had hi s Tom gone insane already? Had they spoken, truly, for the last time five months ago?

Voldemort shot a hex at him, hitting Harry's leg and shattering the bone.

"A single question: What was the purpose of this?"

"Why – why what, I don't – " Harry broke off with a hoarse scream as his other leg shattred.

"Why have you betrayed me?"

"I haven't, I swear."

"Liar."

"Please, please don't."

Voldemort snarled, ripping the cuff from Harry's arm. It flew to pieces in a chaotic blast of magic.

"Were you ever someone I could trust or was this planned from the beginning?" How deep was Harry's betrayal? How much information had passed from him?

"I don't understand, please I-"

Voldemort let out an inhuman shriek of fury, glass shattering in several on the cupboards.

"Don't lie!"

Harry felt a pressure tighten around his throat.

"Too weak too even admit your treachery?"

Harry just whimpered, having no idea what had brought on the sudden change in Tom. All he could think to do was play along, trying to give the truth would either prove to Tom that he was lying or Tom would be too proud to admit he was wrong, especially after having gone so far.

"Let me go. You'll never see me again, I swear." It almost broke Harry to say that.

"Make the unbreakable vow."

Harry did so, vowing to never speak of Tom, his plans, Death Eaters or anything else in a very complicated vow that took care of any loop holes.

Voldemort hit him with several cutting hexes, including one that stretched across his face from his left temple to chin, a physical reminder.

Harry was then forcibly portkeyed to a remote, muddy field. Miles from his home and wondering how to speak to Tom – not Voldemort – again.


End file.
